


Conditioning

by recrudescence



Category: Glee
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-07
Updated: 2010-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-13 02:54:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recrudescence/pseuds/recrudescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the intervention specialists Puck talked to reeled off a ton of ways to get out aggression without hurting other people, and working out was the first thing on the list.</p><p>Takes place sometime after 2.05. Inspired by a kink meme prompt: <em>Puck and Sam working out together and admiring each other's bodies, leading to hot, sexual contact of some kind.</em> I'm also going to err on the side of caution and warn for <strong>dub-con</strong>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conditioning

Juvie's been a pain in the ass. Puck's seen a grand total of zero knife fights, acquired a grand total of zero tattoos, and spent way too much time sitting in a circle with other fuckups being encouraged to talk about his feelings. For once in his life, he's a model student, just so he can get out as fast as possible.

Now, he has community service to start. He has a therapist, a parole officer, and a social worker practically having an orgy to see who can breathe down his neck the most, which is a really gross metaphor since none of them are even hot. He's basically got a bunch of people with _credentials_ overseeing him, not to mention his mother bugging him by demanding to know what's wrong with him and his sister bugging their mom about getting her ears pierced since Puck had his done.

He'd take her to the mall himself, but he still isn't allowed to drive and his mom's been threatening him with boarding school if he doesn't shape up. Puck looked up some nearby ones online and there's no way in hell he'll let himself get packed off someplace that doesn't have any girls and makes him dress like a butler. A guy's gotta draw the line somewhere.

Still, the juvie thing does wonders for his rep as someone you don't want to fuck with, ever.

Bad news for this Sam kid and his disturbingly massive mouth.

Puck's all about getting super fit after his time in the slammer. If his image is building him up, his body damn well better match it. No one needs to know that he's also hitting the gym so often because he's kind of pissed about this new kid coming in and usurping everyone left and right. One of the intervention specialists he talked to reeled off a ton of ways to get out aggression without hurting other people, and working out was the first thing on the list.

It makes him want to punch the kid and they've barely made eye contact since he got back. Taking his place as Quinn's man, his place in glee, his place as school stud and, for a while, even Finn's place on the football team. And, credit where it's due, this Sam guy has some serious tone to him. So do a bunch of the other football guys, yeah, but none of them are dating Quinn. At least he's not getting challenged by someone who's butt-ugly, but still, he doesn't get how the fuck this happened so fast.

They're in the weight room at the same time when Puck decides to take some action, have a little confrontation of his own. He's caught Sam eying him a few times, like he's just waiting for Puck to lay him out, so in a way he's just doing the guy a favor by getting it over with.

Just to be on the safe side, he locks the door, and then wanders over to where Sam's working on his quads. Puck finishes a stint on the elliptical and takes a seat on one of the weight benches, casually doing bicep curls, enjoying the way Sam tries to act like he doesn't know he's being watched.

"Hey." He nods at the bench when Sam takes a break to drink from his water bottle. "Want me to spot you?"

It's as good an excuse as any to size up the newcomer and get a feel for the competition, if there actually is any.

Now Sam's looking at over at him like he heard that wrong. Puck's got no idea what the hell Quinn sees in this guy, with his blowjob mouth and his geeky Ellen DeGeneres hair. But Sam smiles, a little warily. "Sure, if that's cool with you."

He's kind of eager to please and even more eager not get on Puck's bad side. Puck recognizes all the symptoms, and he waits. "Can I just say something right off the bat?" Sam says, once he's finished loading on some weights and lying down. "I can't imagine going through what you did. It must have been really tough."

What a fucking charmer. It's probably exactly what he pulled on Quinn. Puck can imagine how that might have gone down. _You're so strong and brave and I really admire that_. Christ. No one with a dick should be able to spout shit like that on command. "That was all over with last year. Sometimes, you've gotta just move on." It's a pretty fucking polite response, in his opinion. He guides the barbell down into Sam's hands.

"Right, totally." He sounds sort of short of breath, maybe from the lifting, maybe from realizing what a moron he is. Puck's okay with either. "I wasn't trying to start drama. Just saying."

"It happens," Puck says bluntly, using the bottom of his shirt to dab at his face.

Sam, clasping the bar across his chest, looks at him upside down with eyes way too naïve for all the shit he's been stirring. Maybe he really is just that oblivious. Sucks for him. Man's gotta learn sometime. "Whoa. You're veering pretty close to the totally-ripped look. Guess there's not much to do in jail but work out, right?"

He snorts. "Sometimes." It's kind of cute how transparent the flattery is, but Puck's used to that kind of thing. It's all part of being a badass. And hearing something like that from a guy who clearly knows his shit about the so-called "totally-ripped look" makes it even better.

"You could totally market that as a fitness plan or something. Like, 'The Hardened Criminal's Guide to Rock-Hard Abs.'

Puck can't even begin to think of how to answer that. He leans over him, placing a hand flat to Sam's stomach. "Don't push so much from the abdomen. Use your shoulders, too."

His fingertip catches the hem of Sam's shirt, pulling the cloth up a little. Puck blinks, then pulls it up a little more, which Sam either doesn't mind or doesn't notice. And damn. As far as abs go, this guy's got nothing to worry about. "Fuck, what do you have, a six-pack or an eight-pack?" Puck doesn't have to like him, but he can recognize good form when he sees it.

"Somewhere in between." The little nerd actually sounds sad about it.

Puck hefts the barbell back up and makes his move. "So, must feel good, right?"

"Yeah, thanks." Sam shakes out his arms a little. "I'm trying to work up to—"

"Not the lifting, dumbass," Puck says amiably. "The way you had Quinn and Kurt both crushing on you as soon as you got here. Guess you're a real pimp, huh?"

"Um." Sam's in the process of dragging his shirt over his head, showing off his stupidly amazing body and emerging looking like a confused chick that just popped out of an egg. "Not really." He dabs the sweat from his temples, flashing a quick grin that could probably make Coach Sylvester's heart grow three sizes. Sickening. "I didn't expect any of that."

Or maybe he just gives mixed signals and riles people up without actually treating them right and Puck, after everything, wants to be sure that Quinn is treated right. "Own up, man. Quinn's really hot. I just did her the once, but _damn_."

"I don't need to hear that. I know she has that whole history with you, but you should still respect her." His face is flushing, but that could just be from exercising, and he keeps eye contact the whole time. Puck has to hand him a few points for that.

"No. _You_ should. That's the point. Do _not_ take advantage of her. She's been through a lot of shit and you better not just be in this so you can bone her." Puck crosses his arms, casually clenching his fists to make his biceps look as defined as possible. "Don't even think about getting her to do something she doesn't wanna do."

"Look, I wouldn't do that. That's not who I am." Sam sits up, gaze flitting here and there like he's hoping to literally see a change of subject hanging around. Then he actually finds one. "Good arms, man. How much do you press?"

Puck gives every impression of not having heard that, but mentally he gives himself a high five. "Yeah, well, she's fucking hot, so I know you've thought about it. Maybe you think you could talk her into just jerking you off, since that's not even real sex."

"Hey, come on..."

"Chill. No defense necessary. Like it's not totally natural to get yourself off and wonder what it'd be like to have someone else doing the jacking." He gives Sam his most disarming smile, the kind of smile that would have Sam inviting him upstairs in a hot second if Sam was a cougar and Puck was cleaning his pool. "Wanna get back down and try a little more? Or did you wanna perv on my arms instead?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"C'mon. Lie down. Just a couple more reps. You didn't get a body like that by slacking off."

Flattery works both ways. Sam snickers and slides down onto his back, grips the barbell again, and there's a fucking hard-on tenting the front of his shorts. Puck laughs. He can't help it. "Wow, really? Told you, Quinn Fabray is a fucking hottie."

Sam's protesting, saying something Puck tunes out automatically, and then Puck touches him and Sam doesn't seem able to say anything at all.

"Your form's looking good," Puck murmurs, letting the ball of his hand rub a hard, slow circle through the thin material of Sam's shorts. "Keep at it. I'm right here."

Under him, Sam lets out a gasp. " _Yeah_. I _know_ you are; that's the problem."

"Really?" Puck dips his fingers beneath the waistband and the kid actually whimpers. "You mean this problem? Because if you don't want me to fix it, all you have to do is tell me."

Sam doesn't. Puck grins.

He's quick about it, pulling the shorts down enough to expose him, noting with some satisfaction that the kid's junk is one thing about him that's perfectly average. Sam's shirt's already off, so Puck can see every last little flex and ripple of muscle under sun-touched skin (Jesus fuck, does he go _tanning_?) while he's jerking him off hard and fast. Watching the clench of his stomach, the way his knees come up like he's trying to center himself. Sam is silent and scarlet-faced, holding the barbell down by his chest like he's forgotten about it, only straining up to shove it back into place when he comes.

" _Shit_." Cursing in his choirboy voice, groaning and spilling over and shaking. Sitting up, lips looking even fuller, like maybe he was chewing them, and a guy with a mouth like that was _made_ to give head, no matter how straight he tries to play it. Such a fucking waste.

Puck doesn't give him any time to pull himself together. Sam's barely finished coming before Puck's gripping his cock until Sam's breath hisses in. And fuck, even Puck can admit that, for a guy, he's fucking gorgeous, sitting there with his come-streaked stomach and nothing on but his shorts puddled around his sneakers. "You ever do anything to screw Quinn over, and I mean _anything_ , I will hunt you down and rip your dick right off you."

He keeps his voice low and his grip firm, emphasizing both a little bit more before he speaks again. "Do not fuck up."

Sam's mouth is hanging open, his face is crimson, and either Puck's imagination is running away with him or he just felt the kid's cock twitch in his hand. _Well_ , now.

Puck raises his eyebrows and asks his parole officer's favorite question. "Are we clear?"

Sam stares at him, slack-jawed still. "Yeah."

"Good." Puck lets him go, clapping Sam on the back with his soiled hand. "Now go shower or something, bro. You look like ass."

Sam wastes no time hightailing it out of the room, not bothering to change or anything, not going to the showers, just pulling his clothes on before fumbling open the door and leaving. It's like maybe he's scared to shower while Puck's still around. Like maybe he doesn't want to be around Puck at all because he's got no idea what might happen next. All part of the process. Puck interlocks his fingers overhead and arches his body until he hears his back crack. Excellent.

He's got a therapy session after school tomorrow. Maybe he'll get points for instigating some nonviolent conflict resolution. Maybe Sam will tell Quinn about this and she'll freak out and dump him. Maybe he won't say anything and it'll tear him up inside.

Either way, it's a win for him. Sam isn't so perfect now, not with that big black mark on his golden-boy image, and Puck is ready to resume his place at the top of the food chain.


End file.
